If you ask me if I desire to be obedient to God, I will joyfully exclaim, "Yes, Lord, I will follow you! Just show me what you want me to do."
But when I considered that being obedient meant helping my Dad move into a new home this past weekend, I admit I didn't jump for joy.
Moving is never a fun process. The inevitable back ache, scraped knuckles, and stubbed toe were part of it all. But the really difficult thing was obeying. Dad was very grateful for the help; still his style is calling out orders and having me jump, fetch, open, close, reach, pick up, hold this, grab that... You get the picture.
I'm 46-years-old. It's been almost 30 years since I lived at home. Following orders was way more challenging than I'd anticipated. I didn't always respond with grace and kindness. I did get short with him a few times. I even barked at my sweet husband who was serving both Dad and me with grace.
The bottom line is that I forgot who I was serving. Even though I love my Dad and want to help him, I want to do it on my terms. Being told what to do at each step took me back to a place where I was a powerless kid. It didn't feel very good. Nonetheless, it was good for me.
I was forced to face the fact that in being obedient to God, I will need to be obedient in service to others on their terms, not mine. It was also a powerful "mirroring" of how I can render my step-sons powerless when I dictate how and when things should be done.
Those aches hurt worse than my back, but they are, I pray, growing pains.
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